


The Muse

by Sweet_tea_and_honey



Category: Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) Actor RPF, In the Heights - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: F/M, Halloween, Insanity, Not the perfect man you think he is, Serial Killer, adult sebastian miranda, ghost story, hint of murder, hint of noncon/rape, insane genius, tiny little bit of smut at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:07:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27123602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweet_tea_and_honey/pseuds/Sweet_tea_and_honey
Summary: HAPPY (early) HALLOWEEN!!Lin-Manuel Miranda is the genius writer, actor and composer we all know and love, or is he? What if this genius had a dark side nobody knew about? Who knows what goes on in that brilliant mind. What's the difference between a genius and a madman anyway?Completely fictional psycho thriller (very loosely) based on events in LMM's life. Written from his POV, some twenty years into the future.
Relationships: Lin-Manuel Miranda/Original Female Character(s), Lin-Manuel Miranda/Vanessa Nadal
Comments: 17
Kudos: 12





	1. Her eyes

A warning, that is all I can offer you, my son, and I pray that one day, you will have forgiven me enough to read it. They say you’ve inherited my talent and that you will conquer the world with your art. They say that your music will move and inspire many generations yet to come. They say that, despite your monster of a father and your childhood, you have found the strength to create music that moves people to tears. Music that could have only come from your genius, tender heart.

_If I am right, you know that could not be further from the truth. You know about her. You know about her gifts and love. You know you are doomed._

I was younger than you are now, when I first saw her. A face somewhere in the back of the train on my way to college. A look, a nod, nothing more. Life was so full then, full of study, full of friends, full of love, full of fun. I wasn’t paying attention. Until one night I decided to get my drunken ass home, instead of crashing on someone’s couch.

_It’s so quiet now. So dark. Nothing but the nightly sounds outside, my own breath and the pounding of my heart._

My girlfriend, Nina, was studying abroad that semester and I threw myself at my studies and writing poems and music to distract myself. I got so drunk with my friends that I was barely conscious, just so I could relax. That seemed to work, but I was sick of the hungover ride back to Manhattan in the morning. So that night I stood sleepily and wobbly on the platform, waiting for the A train to take me home. I was determined to sleep in my own bed. The subway came and I let myself fall on the seats with a drunken smile. We started to move and I looked around, trying to not fall asleep and miss my stop. The subway car seemed empty, but through the reflection in the black windows I saw a small, white face and two dark eyes looking at me. Normally, I would have looked down or gotten out my book but this time I stared back. We kept staring at each other’s reflections in the darkness and smiled at each other at almost the exact same moment. When the train stopped and the doors opened I lost her in the platform lights but as soon as we were moving again, her dark eyes were looking at me again.

At Dykman st I pulled myself out of my chair to get up. When I stepped on the platform I nearly fell flat on my drunk face. I heard the doors slide shut behind me and I turned as fast as I could. I couldn’t see her. She had not gotten off and the train slowly moved away. A special moment has ended and I was more than a little disappointed. I stumbled home and as soon as I touched my matrass I fell into a deep, drunken slumber.

_Do you hear them. Those silent footsteps. She is looking for me, like I have looked for her for all those years._

The next morning I woke up from a dream that faded in an instant, feeling like I had left something behind in that dream. As if I had lost something important. My head was pounding and I was so hung over, that I decided to take a walk in Inwood Hill Park across the house. I grew up there and had spent many hours daydreaming and playing in that park. My feet automatically found their way to the highest point, but a thick mist prevented me from seeing any of the familiar views. Though I couldn’t see much, I could hear the sounds of the city waking up. Somewhere I heard Latin music and I softly hummed along. That was typical. You could hear music like that all day in my neighbourhood. Windows were open and everyone danced and worked to their own melody. All of a sudden I realised that the music I was humming to wasn’t coming from anywhere. It was playing softly in my own head! I rushed back home and sat behind the piano to capture those fleeting notes. I managed to play a little piece of it. The same few notes, over and over again. It sounded familiar and strange at the same time. It was the start of my very first big musical.

_After all these years. Has she forgiven me? Does she still want me like I want her?_

That song was the start of a big music project. A project that started with those few notes I had heard that morning. Nina and I broke up soon after that and I enjoyed my single life, especially on my trips to Europe. With a group of friends I had formed an improv theatre group and we found ourselves in Edinburgh, Scotland, performing at the big theatre festival. Night after night, we tried to convince people to come see our strange little show. After the show, sometimes performed for as many as twenty people, we went to the pubs and downed a few large pints, before stumbling back to our apartment.

_I am prepared. Find me my love! I am here._

It was during one of those nights that I saw her again. My best friend Tommy was in an alley, taking a piss of throwing up, I don’t remember. I was smoking a cigarette and admired Edinburgh castle being lit up beautifully that night. In the corner of my eyes something moved and I saw a pale girl across the street. Now in Edinburgh, there are always tourists taking spooky tours so I expected a group of Japanese with cameras somewhere nearby. But this girl was looking me, smiling at me! And I knew her. My intoxicated brain was trying to make a connection, but it wasn’t until I saw her eyes that I knew; the girl from the subway, all those years before. I wanted to cross the street, forgetting that those fuckers over there drive on the wrong side of the road and nearly got hit by a cab. I jumped back and fell, dizzy and irritated. I took the hand that appeared next to me and she helped me up. Her hand was cold. Dark eyes met mine and I stopped thinking, stopped wanting, stopped knowing. Without saying anything she guided me away. I had a thousand questions but couldn’t say a word and like that, we walked through the old, silent town. When we reached Arthur’s Seat, a huge park on a hill in the middle of town, she stopped and looked at the sky. It was a warm summer night and the stars were so beautiful!

 _Her soft footsteps, no more than a whisper of a movement. I would recognize them anywhere._

I finally found my voice. “We have met before! New York? The A train?” She smiled, shook her head and shyly – was she shy? – stared at the ground. My thoughts were going so fast that they forgot to control my body. As if I was controlled by a supernatural force, my hand suddenly went up to her chin and lifted her face up. For a moment my lips were on hers and I felt dizzy and embarrassed at the same time. My heart was pounding so fast that I was sure she could see it beating under my hoody. What the fuck was happening? She took a step back and pulled me along, up Arthur’s Seat. We found a snug little spot and she motioned me to sit beside her. She shivered, despite the warmth of this summer night and I pulled her close to me. After a while, I had enough of the silence and started randomly talking about shit. About my project, my music, about my future. She kept looking at the stars while I rambled on like some drunk loser, but I knew she was listening to me, really listening to me. I told her about my fear of not having what it takes to make it in the industry. I was just some dude from New York, after all. She looked at me with those beautiful eyes, touched my cheek with the back of her hand and kissed me. Long, cold and intense. When she stopped I gasped and she put her head on my chest. I had so many questions, but I was silent. I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

 _I have waited and waited. That was my punishment. A true lover would never have made the mistakes that I have._

The next day I woke up hung over, on a misty, wet hill in Scotland. Chilled to the bone, I made my way back to the apartment, where I was greeted with applause and jokes. It took me at least thirty minutes in a hot shower to feel my feet again. The days after that, I looked for her. In our audience, on the streets, in the pubs, fuck I even climbed up Arthur’s Seat a few times. She was nowhere to be found. My friends started calling me Lindarella, because I was looking for my lost princess.

Our time in Scotland ended and I flew back to New York with a heavy sense of failure in my guts, despite our success in the theatre.

 _I see a shadow under my door, my heart nearly jumps out of my chest with excitement._

Back home, I kept busy by trying to get my musical produced, but every lost moment, she slid back into my thoughts. At night, I dreamt of her. The girl on the hill. I would wake up with a start in the middle of the night, a hint of her name on my lips. Which was bullshit of course, she never told me her name.

After that I couldn’t get back to sleep, so I dragged myself to my desk with a cup of coffee and started writing. It became a ritual and I found that during these nightly episodes, when I was filled with her beauty and her cool touch, I wrote the most amazing things. Meanwhile, Tommy and I were still looking for people who wanted to produce our show. Nobody was interested, nobody seemed to get it and after a few months I was getting pretty desperate. After a sleepless week, full of dreams about her, I sat at a table – head pounding and dark circles under my eyes – with Tommy and three wannabe producers. I still can’t remember a single word that was said; my thoughts were only with her. Where was she? Who was she? How could I find her? I was literally shaken awake when one of the men grabbed my hand with two of his and congratulated me. We had money. We could begin our adventure.

_The doorknob turns, ever so slowly. I get up and wipe my sweaty hands on my pants. I clumsily try to fix my hair and then the door opens.._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this first chapter! I will publish the next chapter in a day or two.  
> I would love to hear what you think!  
> This is my first ever fanfic sort of story and English is NOT my first language so please be kind.


	2. Fame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life is good. Success, fame and wealth, you name it... But why are the nights so restless and exhausting? 
> 
> Beware, here be uncomfortable feelings!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me just start by saying that I do NOT in any way, shape of form think that Mr Miranda did of ANY of the things that happen in this story. This is entirely the product of my imagination, and yes my brain is a pretty dark, twisted place from time to time. 
> 
> So here is chapter 2. A bit sooner than I expected, because your reactions gave me super-powers and I finished it in no time!  
> Enjoy!

The little tune that I heard in my head that one morning in the park became a musical and the musical became a success. We played off Broadway at first but eventually moved to Broadway and stayed there. I won awards. People all of a sudden knew my music and my name. My new found fame brought so many new projects and so much stress that I almost forgot about my quest for my mystery girl. Through a friend I met your mother, the girl I had a huge crush on in high school. Whatever you may think about my relationship with your mother now, know this: if I had found her any less beautiful, intelligent or mesmerizing, she could never have competed with my muse. Your mother meant the world to me, she was my best friend, my lover, my confidant. I loved her and I never stopped loving her, no matter how she feels about me now.

_Without making a sound, she steps over the threshold, barefooted. Her silhouette is a sharp contrast to the lights in the hallway. Like a halo of white light that surrounds her._

I was a success. Everything I ever dreamt of was happening at once and everyone wanted to work with me. People called me a genius, a visionary, and even a gift to mankind. If only they had known how much pain I was in. I had not seen her black eyes, not since that night in Scotland. I roamed the streets of New York at night, hoping to find her somewhere. Even with all my new fame and fortune, I kept riding the subway, because that was where I had seen her for the first time. People thought I did it, because I was such a normal, down to earth guy. I let them believe that.

You were born and a few years later we had your brother. I wrote poems to your mother, calling her the love of my life, praising her love, her intelligence and her loyalty. A fake, that was what I was, because every night I dreamt of another woman. During my many sleepless nights, she blessed me with the most incredible words and melodies, that I bent into one theatrical success after another. With every note, I tried to capture her essence, as if I could call her to me by writing the perfect symphony.

_The door closes behind her and we stand together in the dark. I can hear her breath and mine. I hear my heart and then I hear her footsteps. Close but still too far away. Then a ray of moonlight falls through the window and I see her._

During the last few weeks of my latest project, a hugely successful Broadway production, I got a strange feeling in my stomach. It felt like the butterflies you get as a kid in the days just before Christmas, full of anticipation. Maybe it was a sign I would finally find her again? “Don’t be a fucking idiot!” I growled at myself. She lived in my dreams, always and that would have to do.

Until that Sunday evening. We were in the middle of a complicated dance number and I turned to the side of the stage, like I did every night. There she was, in the shadows of the wings. Her clothes were so dark that she seemed to fade into the black walls behind her. Could anybody else see her? Her black eyes looked at me and it took all of my strength to not fuck up my performance. Was she here for me? Had she finally come back to me? The stage floor turned and I locked eyes with my friend Pippa. My shock must have been obvious, because she quietly whispered “Are you ok?” I shook my head. “It’s nothing Pip, I’m just tired.” Which was true; I had been doing this too often and for too long. I wanted to have some peace, to be someone besides that character that I had played for so many years. I looked over Pippa’s shoulder to see if she was still there. Yes. There she stood, in her full dark glory. With my eyes I begged her to stay there and ran off to the other side, to my next scene, hoping she had understood.

_Like a flame in the darkness, she is there. So light and so dark at the same time. I knew she would find me again. We are connected until everything around has turned to dust. We are made of dreams and stardust._

After the show, I immediately ran backstage. We had a least an hour of press and other obligations to deal with, but I needed to see her so badly that I just ran off. When I got there she wasn’t in the corner where I had last seen her and my heart sank. My throat tightened and I felt my knees weaken. I couldn’t breathe and everything around me started to spin, so that I grabbed the banister to prevent myself from falling. I wanted to scream!

Then I felt her behind me. Her peace, her coolness. I turned around as fast as I could and saw her looking down on me from the top of the stairs. Slowly, far too slow, she walked down the stairs and stood in front of me. She was smaller than I remembered and she seemed to be made of glass, so fragile. My panic vanished at once and the only thing I could think about were her eyes and her mouth. Without hesitation I pulled her against me, fast but careful not to hurt her. The taste of her lips, her curves, everything was like I had never lost her at all. We let ourselves sink onto a pile a rags on the floor and kept on kissing and caressing. Finally I felt some peace inside, finally I could stop wondering where she was. She was here, with me and her hand was slowly gliding down to my crotch.

How I fell asleep I still don’t know. Maybe because I felt so at peace with her? Maybe I was overtaken with happiness? All I know is that I woke up cold and alone in an empty, dark theatre. The darkness around me, the cold and my tired body made the loneliness I felt almost unbearable. I had to find her!

_Oh my poor heart. It can’t take much more, after all the hurt and heartbreak. It has become almost as fragile as her. But I know that I have always been the fragile one, the weak one. She has always held all the power._

I ran back to my dressing room, put on some clothes and ran out through the stage door. It was the middle of the night, but my city never sleeps and there were still a lot of people outside. They shouted things at me, probably surprised to see me there at that time of night. I didn’t listen, pulled up my hoody and started to run. My thoughts shot through my brain like mad, painful arrows. Where was she? Why did she leave me again? I could not go on without her! Was I not good enough? What could I do to prove I was worthy of her? I ran and ran until I had the taste of blood in my mouth and I knew that if I did not stop running I would fucking vomit all over the street. I slumped down against a wall behind a dumpster in some dirty alley and tried to breathe. As soon as I caught my breath the only thing I could do was roar my pain at the night sky. The paralysing feeling of desperation did not come as a surprise, it had been there, just below the surface, for years. It coursed through me like a familiar toxin and I could do nothing but surrender. I would rather die there and then from the cold and exhaustion, than having to live without her one more day.

The sound of heels made me look up. Al the end of the alley stood a small female figure, poorly lit by the streetlights. The footsteps came closer and I looked up at her through my tears. My heart nearly stopped from shock and it’s a miracle I did not faint. It was her. She was here, she was coming to me, coming for me! “Hey, it’s you. Are you alright?” she asked. I tried to get up, but I was so damn dizzy that I smashed my head into the wall. She now ran at me and tried to hold me up. Her eyes looked up at me with a worried look. For a moment I thought I saw something like fear in her eyes, but that thought was gone as soon as I took her face in my hands and kissed her with every ounce of passion I possessed. I had her, here in my arms, on my lips. I was never going to let her go.

She pushed away and it felt like someone rammed a hot poker in my guts. She could not reject me now! I grabbed her shoulders and pushed her against the wall. She twisted and turned. She could not do this to me! She made high pitched noises. She could not send me away! She was mine as I was hers. My lips were on her lips, on her cheeks, on every part of her skin and I surrendered to the passion and let all my thoughts run free.

_They have tried everything to keep us apart but they don’t know her strength. Nothing can stop her. Nothing can stop our love._

Just before sunrise, I crawled into bed next to your mother. For the first time in my life everything was perfect. I had found my love and this time she had not run away. She had been mine for as long as I wanted. I felt warm and satisfied and fell into a deep sleep. In my dream she came to me again, my muse with her black eyes. She gave me words and symphonies beyond anything I could ever imagine and I knew I had pleased her by finding her. I also knew I would now be able to always find her and love her.

In the years that followed I searched for her and found her everywhere I went. Even on the other side of the world, I was able to find her and I felt validated in my belief that we were meant to really be together one day. For now I was happy knowing she was there for me when I needed her. Every time despair threatened to ruin me, she would appear on some empty street or in a dark, silent alley. Sometimes she seemed to be different, but I would always recognise her as mine. My magical woman, my lover. Nobody knew about our passionate moments in those dark corners, but my days and dreams were filled with memories and hopeful desire. Every single thing I did was full of her scent, her cold skin, her taste and her love.

_She hasn’t changed nor aged. Still as pretty as the night she left me at the theatre. Still as arousing. Her eyes, once black as night, seem to be lighter now and still I know them to be hers. Slowly they appear to change colour in the moonlight. Green. Blue. Grey. Brown._

_I take a deep breath to calm my nerves and I smell her long black hair, the scent of far away countries and warm hearths. The scent of songs about life and love, of poems about life and my soul._

The day came that I had finally finished all my work. Everything she had shown me in my dreams was completed and I finally had time to live. My wife, my sons, my worldly life. That morning I had given one last big interview and after that I had decided to take a nap. When I woke and tried to get up, I collapsed. My head was exploding and I had not control over my body. I heard your mother scream, but drifted away into darkness. There she waited for me. Without words, for she had gifted them all to me through the years. Still as beautiful and pale and dark. In my feverish dream she reached out her hand to me and I would have gladly taken it. But I woke up. I woke up in an ambulance, with a pale-faced Tommy by my side. 

_She is standing in front of me. It really is her, of course it is. She tilts her head slightly and seems to be studying me. Maybe she doesn’t recognise me, I have become an old man. I am not beautiful, never have been, but she is more beautiful than ever. She circles me with an amused little smile and I feel humiliated and ashamed. Of course, I’m a fucking joke. Why would someone as beautiful as her want anything from an ugly beast like me? Then she reaches out her hand and softly touches my eyelids. I close my eyes and feel she is still circling me, her hands touching my arms, my back, my shoulders and my chest. I feel a shiver going through my spine and open my eyes. She gently puts a finger under my chin and turns my face towards the dark window. I see my reflection staring back at me, twenty years younger at least. We are back where we left of and it feels like a new beginning._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you for reading my story. Third and final chapter to be revealed SOON!! 
> 
> Stay tuned!


	3. the Fall and Rise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything is falling apart, and history has a nasty way of catching up with you when you don't want it to.  
> Third and final chapter of The Muse!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you were uncomfortable while reading the last chapter, hang on to something because it's going to get a lot worse! 
> 
> Little bit of fluff/smut at the end.

In the hospital I was treated well enough, but your mother, my parents and my friends never came to visit. No one came, except one man who stood at the door of my hospital room. I thought it had something to do with security, me being a Big Star and all that. But then two men in cheap grey suits appeared next to my bed. They looked nervous and one of them could not stop fidgeting with his tie. They showed me pictures of women and asked if I knew them. I didn’t. They then read a list of names and asked if I had heard those names before. I hadn’t. They looked at each other. Then they looked at me. The tie fidgeter had a solemn look about him. “I can’t believe I’m saying this sir, but we have to arrest you for the murder of fourteen women.” He proceeded to read me my rights, but all I could do was laugh hysterically. Clearly, someone was pranking me! My eyes flew across the room, scanning for a hidden camera but eventually rested on the other cheap suit’s face. “You’re kidding me right?” He shook his head, with a strange look of disappointment in his eyes.

_Her hand on my cheek, down my neck. So cold and fragile. Gently, I take her face in my hands and kiss her so carefully, as if she’s a soap bubble that can burst at the slightest touch. I feel her breath on my skin and I don’t dare to open my eyes. I feel like I am out of breath and have to take a step back to find my balance. When I open my eyes, hers are staring right at me. What if she still doesn’t know how I feel? Doesn’t know what I have done for her? “My love, my queen, I am yours!” I want to shout, but I can’t. “Come.” Her voice is almost a whisper. Her voice! Even more beautiful than I could ever have dreamt. I nod and follow her to my bed._

Since then, I have discovered what had happened, no, what I had done. During my feverish dream I had become delirious. Names, places and lots and lots of horrifying details had come pouring out of my mouth like unquenchable nightmares. Being a lawyer, your mother knew enough about the case to be alarmed by what I was saying and called Tommy to get him to come over. Together they listened to my ramblings, shocked and defeated. At some point your mother could take no more and ran off to the bathroom to throw up. That was when Tommy called an ambulance and the police to make sure I would be taken away from there. Taken away from my home and my family. 

After the hospital I was brought to a cell where I spent my days waiting for trial. At first I was shocked, angry and hurt. What the fuck were they thinking?! But slowly images started to immerge in the back of my mind. Images of women in New York, Washington, London, Sydney.. Small women with pale skins and long dark hair, who could fill the void in my soul within the blink of an eye. I remembered the maddening thrill of finding her. The irrational, dangerous desires that would shoot to the surface of my consciousness in one fluent movement and that would give me the strength to make her mine every time I would find her. She had pushed and twisted, but that had only meant I needed to prove my love for her even more. If she could only stop talking, stop begging, stop squeaking, I would be able to show her how deep my love, my desire was.

I was begging her too, every time I took her against a wall of behind some dumpster. “Love me! Take me! Be mine! Please!” But before she could tell me she loved me and before we could be in each other’s arms for eternity, I saw her eyes. The eyes. They were always the wrong eyes. Too light, too gray, too blue. Those eyes would unleash such a rage in me that my own eyes, and my vision, turned black.

_Her dress falls to the floor and she lets herself fall onto my bed. I look at her, mesmerised. “Come.” She says again and I walk to the bed and lean down over her. Her body feels like mist. I vaguely wonder if my kisses aren’t burning her cold, cold skin. I kiss her again and again and everywhere. She arches her back and I’m afraid she will break in two. Now she takes my face in her hands and kisses me with icy cold lips._

My trial was over before it began. My fancy lawyer made sure I was sent to a psychiatric hospital, rather than prison. I have spent the last twenty years in this room, without seeing anyone but the nurses and doctors. Even my lawyer stopped coming after the trial. My fortune was divided among the families that were involved, as I had requested myself. Only your mom and you and your brother got a share. No one listens to my music anymore and nobody talks about me or my work. They all want to forget about the monster. A monster. That was what you called me the last time I saw you. You were what? Twelve? You were right, I have done monstrous things. But oh, my son. Now that you know what that love feels like, you know what it can do to a man!

_Her eyes seem to be a few shades lighter and almost look human. She takes of my shirt and presses herself against me. Her kiss is now greedy and she bites my lip. Her hunger matches my own and I push my tongue into her mouth to taste her. Her hands are pulling my hair and then move over my back to my thighs and under my waistband. I almost explode with love and excitement when she touches me but her cold eyes are telling me to stay calm and let her take care of me._

I am a coward. I pray I never have to see the day of your fall, like my papa had to see mine. His silence, his bowed head, that one tear running down his cheek. I had gone from his pride and joy to the biggest disappointment in just a few moments. I begged and begged him to listen to me, but my voice was cracked and couldn’t reach his broken heart. Now I am begging you, please stop before it’s too late. It is better to live with the memory of love in your heart, than to die without anybody caring about your heart at all. There are so many amazing things on your path now, don’t throw that away for dreams that will surely turn into nightmares. My time on this earth is nearly up, I can feel it in my bones. My final wish is that you may read my story and that this may save you from a life full of misery. Farewell, my son. Siempre. Your father.

_I want her, it’s the only thing I have ever wanted. The only thing that matters. She pushes down my pants and boxers and I stand naked before her. I can’t hide my deepest desires from her anymore, nor do I want to. My body and spirit have been captured by her beauty and magic. She pushes against my shoulders and I lay down on my back. She straddles me and locks eyes with me, a small smile on her lips. Her eyes are rapidly changing colour now, reminding me of all the wrong eyes, all the eyes that weren’t her. Her small, white breasts hypnotise me and look fragile in my big, callused hands. Every movement, every touch is like a dream and I am so far gone that I can’t even make a sound when she lets herself sink down on me. This is what it should have felt like, all those times, all those years. Soft, passionate and perfect. She was mine and mine alone. Our bodies move as one and I know that this time she will not disappear. This is our encore, our spectacular finale. “Come” she says once more and I know that that will be the last word I will ever hear. I do as she says and feel her burst into untameable flames above me. Finally, she is warm. Finally, she is satisfied. I look up into those cursed, black eyes one last time and then she sets me free._

Seb heard from his mother that his father had died in the psychiatric hospital. He wasn’t very surprised nor sad. His father’s heart had been weak for years and his mind had been gone for decades. Without any real emotion of interest, he took care of the funeral with his brother Frankie and stood beside his mother at the grave. The poor woman had never gotten over the shock. As soon as the funeral had ended, he said goodbye and rushed back home. He was very busy, working on a new experimental composition. He did not see his fiancée much, she was busy organising their wedding. From sunrise until late at night he would be hunched over his piano and piles of paper. Once in a while he would look up and out of his window at Washington Bridge, just like his father had done. A letter came from the psychiatric hospital and though Seb was intrigued by the familiar handwriting on the envelope, he threw it in a drawer of his desk. He, Sebastian Miranda, had work to do first. Maybe if he’d keep on writing, maybe if he’d keep on composing, yes maybe then he would find her again. Maybe she would one day look at him with her beautiful eyes. Her beautiful, black eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Intense or insane? Psychopath or haunted genius?  
> Who knows? It's just a story.. ;-) 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this and leaving comments and kudos!!


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